


a bruise coming into its own

by deadlifts



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), M/M, Masquerade, Reconciliation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlifts/pseuds/deadlifts
Summary: After months of searching for Dimitri in vain, Felix finally has a lead. He follows rumors to the royal palace in Fhirdiad, where Cornelia flaunts her power.While Imperial loyalists dance and feast, a beast emerges from the shadows to hunt his prey.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69
Collections: 2020 Dimilix Exchange





	a bruise coming into its own

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sara for the 2020 Dimilix Holiday Exchange.
> 
> Happy holidays! I took your timeskip prompt and ended up really running with it. I hope you like it! ♥
> 
> Warnings for violence, blood, the killing of unnamed Imperial loyalists, Dimitri struggling with his mental health.

The first time Felix attended a masquerade, he was young — too young for dances and strict decorum. He had begged his father to permit him to go, had clutched his hands at his sides and willed himself not to cry so he could prove that he was grown up enough to attend alongside his brother. His father had reluctantly given in, though Glenn had protested against it, and bought him a mask cast in the shape of a wolf. 

Felix had worn it proudly, long before they set off to the capital. He had trained with it, had pestered Glenn with it, and had even tried to attend his studies with it. Whenever he put it on, he felt like he was entering the world that was usually too far out of his reach — the world to which Glenn, Dimitri, Sylvain, and even Ingrid belonged. 

He no longer felt so young. 

But when he finally arrived at the masquerade only to be abandoned by Glenn and forgotten by his busy father, Felix no longer felt mature. He didn't recognize the people whose faces were hidden by masks. He couldn't find Dimitri or Ingrid, and he accidentally confused Miklan's red hair for Sylvain's. He felt too small and too alone. 

He didn't belong at all. 

He wove through the thick crowd of scary masks and huddled in a corner, where he dropped his mask to the floor and began to cry. 

When Dimitri found him, he knew it was Dimitri — could tell by the way he tentatively picked up the wolf mask and held it out to him. His hair was blond and his voice was concerned. 

He said, "Felix?" and Felix knew it was him. 

But Felix couldn't trust him. He was too afraid of the large lion mask that Dimitri wore. It swallowed his face and turned him into something big and scary. He hated the way it hid everything that was _Dimitri_ , marring him, rendering him as unfamiliar as the rest. 

Then Dimitri grasped his mask. He pulled it up slowly, revealing his face little by little, until it rested atop his head. "It is only me. See?" 

Felix looked, and he saw. He tried to stop his tears. 

Dimitri asked, "Do you want to go somewhere quiet?" 

Felix nodded. He stood up and wiped his face. "Only if you promise not to wear the mask." 

"I promise," Dimitri replied, pulling it off his head entirely and coupling it with Felix's mask. He set them down in the corner. 

Felix took Dimitri's hand. Dimitri led him out of the ballroom, far away from their masks. 

And Dimitri kept his promise. 

For a while. 

* * *

"You look like crap." 

Felix looks up at the sound of Sylvain's voice. Sylvain grins at him from atop his horse. 

Felix's attention is immediately drawn to Sylvain's unruly hair. It has grown long since Felix saw him last, but more startling than that is its new, unnatural black color. It's so dark, it's obvious that the shade came from a bottle of dye. 

"You look ridiculous," Felix counters. He's leaning against the wall of an inn, their designated meeting spot, in an effort to shelter from the biting winter winds. His lips are chapped and his hair, like Sylvain's, has changed since they last met. But all Felix did was take a sword to his, rendering it uneven but kempt enough. 

Sylvain grins at him again, proud of his disastrous choice of hair color. "You don't like it? Since we're about to —" He lowers his voice. "Get in bed with the enemy, I thought it would be best if I didn't look like such a Gautier." 

"We'll be wearing masks." Felix shoves himself off the wall and starts heading around back to where his horse is waiting. 

Sylvain clicks his tongue to urge his horse to follow. "Masks can't hide these locks. Besides, I think I look good with black hair. Maybe I'll get lucky tonight." 

"We aren't here for you to go chasing after women," Felix tells him as he gathers his reins and mounts his horse. 

"I know, I know. You're the only one who gets to do the chasing." 

Felix looks up sharply, hands tightening over the reins. "I see asking you to help was a mistake." He kicks his horse and takes off toward the capital in a gallop. 

Sylvain hurries his horse after him. "I'm sorry, okay?" he calls as he closes the distance. "I just — I'm trying to lighten things up a little. You look like you haven't slept in days, Felix. You've been searching for a ghost for too long." 

"He's here," Felix insists. He doesn't raise his voice; the wind swallows his words. 

Felix has chased every rumor involving a possible sighting of a man fitting Dimitri's description. He has traveled to every corner of Faerghus. He has fought his way through traitorous soldiers, disguising himself in Imperial red and venturing into Adrestrian territory. He has followed footprints cast in trails of blood and corpses lining roads in pieces. 

And they all have led him here: back to Fhirdiad, where a beast is said to emerge from the shadows to steal the souls of men who have betrayed their prince. 

_Mark my words_ , an elderly woman who claimed to have seen the beast had told him. _He will go to that ball. And he will kill them all._

"Even if he is, this is a dangerous plan, masks or no masks," Sylvain continues, his horse now abreast with Felix's. 

"Then go back to your territory," Felix says, still clenching the reins, his attention on the road before them. 

"Nah. You know me," Sylvain replies. "I'm always up for a little danger." 

"Then stop complaining." 

He ignores Sylvain the rest of the way, though Sylvain does his best to cajole him into talking, even going so far as to mention his father to elicit a reaction. Felix doesn't rise to the bait; he focuses on getting to the royal palace. 

He focuses on Dimitri. 

* * *

Holding a masquerade in the middle of a war is grotesque. It's a show of strength, a way of conveying to the masses who holds the power, now that their prince is gone and Faerghus has fractured. It shows them that those who pledge fealty will be rewarded with grand feasts and dancing, while those who falter are placed on the frontlines to die in battle. 

Felix is disgusted. He is appalled by his own pretense. He has to force himself to put on the gaudy golden mask that Sylvain hands him. It covers his entire face, forces him into a false, immovable smile, and marks him as a traitor like the rest. 

"What do you think?" Sylvain asks from behind his own mask. It is appropriately fashioned into that of a jester, complete with a headpiece. 

"It suits you," Felix replies. 

"I'm not sure if I should find that flattering or insulting." 

They're both dressed in formalwear now, having changed before their arrival. Felix had to abandon his sword to a hiding place. It's the first time he's been without it since taking off after Dimitri, and he feels uneasy — open and exposed, despite the dagger hidden within his clothes. Sylvain was correct in calling his plan dangerous; if even one person at this masquerade manages to identify them, they'll both be dead before they can do anything about it. 

Tensely, he begins walking toward the palace. Sylvain trails behind him, waving and calling out greetings to those who catch his attention. 

Felix is already annoyed with him, eager to deposit him somewhere within the palace so he can begin searching, but his behavior is ultimately why Felix urged him to leave Gautier to attend this ball. Felix is brusque, likely to anger anyone who gets in the way of finding Dimitri, but Sylvain can swoop in and cover him where he falls short. He can mollify anyone who ends up in Felix's path, and flirt with them until they forget that Felix was ever there in the first place. 

Sylvain is his damage control. 

"Ready?" Sylvain asks as they approach the gates. 

Felix nods. 

They give fake names to the guards, pretending to be minor Adrestian nobles out to admire Corenlia's hard work in securing Fhirdiad. It takes everything within Felix to force out the lie, to keep his sword hand from twitching, to _pretend_ — 

But Sylvain nudges him, and Felix gives the name. 

As they walk inside, Sylvain says, "Remember, it's for Dimitri." 

"I don't need you to tell me that," Felix snaps. 

He and Sylvain shuffle into the palace and walk through the halls until they reach the ballroom. It was a grand room once, draped in Blaiddyd colors with the royal crest on proud display. Now it is empty of any shade of blue. The decorations celebrate Adrestria and reek of Cornelia's touch. 

Felix only spares a glance for the disgusting display. 

"I'll watch your back," Sylvain assures him. 

Felix looks for Dimitri. 

* * *

An hour into the ball, Felix is still looking. There has been no sign of Dimitri, no whispered rumor of his presence. As time drags on, Felix feels progressively restless. He finds his hand drifting to his hip, seeking a hilt that is not there. He loses his already-limited patience for conversation. And he grows uncomfortable in his mask, his face dampened with sweat. 

Sylvain decides to give him space, drifting away from him in favor of flirting his way into gathering intel, leaving Felix to stew in the anger of his failure — of yet another risk taken in vain. 

One of the ballroom attendants must notice his displeasure. He walks over to Felix and holds out a champagne flute. "We are taking requests for the next song, if you are so inclined." 

"I am not," Felix says tersely, refusing both the drink and the song. 

"Perhaps something lively," the attendant continues as though Felix has not attempted to brush him off. 

"I said —" Felix turns to fully face the man, and as he does so, he sees him: at the far end of the ballroom, concealed in a corner, stands a looming figure who wears a mask upon his face and a tattered cloak upon his shoulders. 

"Sir?" the attendant prompts. 

Felix shoves past him. He weaves through the crowd of people who smile from behind their masks, chattering aimlessly and celebrating the demise of a kingdom that once held so much promise. He nearly reaches him — gets close enough to see the detail in his mask, the black metal work that stretches across his face in approximation of an animal, but appears far too monstrous to have been inspired by a real creature. Horns expand from his temples and curl inward, as though they would stab the bearer if given more reign. 

It is the mask of a beast. 

Felix yells, "Boar!" and the crowd turns its attention to him. He feels the eyes of enemies on his back, but he ignores them. He looks only at Dimitri. 

As soon as Felix provides this distraction — as soon as the crowd has stopped its chatter to watch him cross the room — Dimitri moves. He skulks out of the corner and walks toward a nobleman wearing a rabbit mask, whose attention rests firmly on Felix. He grabs the man from behind, enclosing an arm around his neck. If the man yells, Felix doesn't hear him, for just as Dimitri tightens his hold, the band begins to play a lively song that surges over voices and cries alike. 

Felix still advances, watching as Dimitri drags the man away, and then — 

Someone takes his arm. 

He turns to look at the person in outrage and ends up face-to-face with a woman in a boar's mask. 

"Were you looking for me?" she asks coyly. 

Felix tears himself from her grip. By the time he turns back around, Dimitri is gone. 

He attempts to follow Dimitri's path, but he is nowhere to be seen. Felix tries to take a deep breath, tightening his hands into fists, feeling the tension of months worth of searching in his chest. 

"Whoa." Sylvain joins him and places a steadying hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" 

Felix jerks away. "He's here. I saw him." 

"Where?" 

"He was right here!" Felix rounds on him. "What are you doing here if you aren't looking?" 

"I am looking!" Sylvain protests. "I just spent the past hour —" 

"Look harder," Felix demands, knowing it isn't fair, knowing that Sylvain is simply trying to help Felix with this foolhardy mission — but being unable to stop the anger, the disappointment, the feeling of having been so close and _lost_. 

And because even now, with Sylvain at his side, Felix feels alone in his search. 

He is the only one who sees. 

"Felix," Sylvain tries, but Felix walks away. 

He walks the perimeter of the room, dips outside to the halls, and explores the balcony. No matter where he looks, Dimitri is nowhere to be found. 

Felix returns to the ballroom to the sound of a building crescendo, the music mounting in volume. He looks over the crowd and spots Sylvain. He then turns his attention to the band as the music reaches its peak — and sees it again: the mask of the beast, now splattered with red, emerging from the shadows. 

Felix is careful this time. He does not hurry. He watches as the beast chooses another victim. The beast encloses his hand around a man's neck and pulls him into the shadows. 

Felix watches closely, and then he pursues. 

But once again, he loses him. It's as though Dimitri was never there in the first place. Every corner of the ballroom is empty of his presence; there is no shred of evidence that a beast has stalked its prey, no proof that a man has met his end. There is nothing. 

Felix has no choice but to try again. 

He makes his way to a corner, away from the bustling crowd. And he waits. 

Eventually, the beast emerges again, with more red slung across his mask and cloak. No one notices the blood. No one watches him. Only Felix bears witness to his next choice of victim: a man in an eagle mask, silenced by a grip on his jaw and dragged toward the back of the ballroom. 

Felix hunts him down. He stays on his heels until the beast reveals a hidden passageway, covered by a tapestry. Then Felix follows him down the dark corridor, keeping pace only a few steps behind. 

They emerge into the snowy night: Dimitri, his victim, and Felix behind them. 

There, the beast stops to tear the eagle-masked man into pieces, adding him to a growing pile of corpses. 

"Boar," Felix calls. 

Dimitri turns to face him. There is new blood splattered across his mask, lines curving upward along its cheeks — a mockery of a smile. There is a scar where one of his eyes should be, damaged flesh staring out of him from beneath the mask. He breathes heavily, his hands curling in and out, as though itching to grab Felix's neck. 

He looks at once like everything Felix has ever feared, and everything he has ever wanted. 

Felix rips off his mask and tosses it to the ground. He bares himself. 

Dimitri does not. He remains masked. 

Felix has planned for this moment. He has chosen the words he wishes to say, the means by which he would drag Dimitri back to Fraldarius to force him into some semblance of help. He understands that patience and soft murmurs will take him further than enraged insults. He knows he has to curtail his words. 

But Felix is angry at Dimitri for disappearing, for remaining untouchable, uncatchable, always out of reach. He is upset with Dimitri for making him believe he was dead, then resurfacing in the form of rumor. 

And Felix is scared — of what Dimitri has become, now that he has lost his humanity. Of losing him yet again. 

Of whatever is to come next, out here in the cold night, with a pile of corpses beside them. 

So Felix's words come out harsh. He says, "Look at you," with disgust outweighing his concern. "You gave up your humanity to become a filthy beast." 

Dimitri's voice is low, muffled beneath his mask. "Have you come to join us?" 

"Join who?" Felix's scoffs. "Your pile of corpses? Do you plan to tear me apart as you have them?" 

Dimitri does not respond immediately. His chest heaves, up and down, as he considers Felix. He looks every part an animal sizing up a meal. "Do you plan to stop me?" 

Felix steps toward him. "Someone has to." 

Dimitri remains unmoved. "Not you." 

"There is no one else here to clean up your mess." When he's close to Dimitri, he reaches for his ugly mask, grabbing the chin and attempting to hoist it upward. But as soon as he touches it, Dimitri grasps his forearm and squeezes, hard and unrelenting, until Felix has no choice but to release the mask. 

He clenches his teeth against the pain, stifling the urge to cry out, and forces himself to look up at Dimitri. Dimitri's grip tightens further; Felix fears that his bones will snap, but he refuses to back down. 

"Not you," the beast says again. His mask is still in place; only one eye stares down at Felix, dark and threatening. 

Then he releases Felix with a shove that sends him to the ground. He ends up damp with snow, an ache in his arm and, inexplicably, his chest. 

Dimitri begins walking back toward the palace. 

"It seems you are not only feral, but also stupid," Felix bites out, attempting to speak past the way his voice quavers from the pain. "If you continue to pick off the people in that ballroom, you will be noticed, and then you will be captured and killed." 

"I am a corpse," Dimitri replies without turning around. "A demon. No one sees me for who I am." 

Felix has always seen. That's why he's out here right now, pushing himself off the ground to place himself in front of Dimitri yet again. "Enough of this." 

"Are you a fool?" Dimitri asks. "That you would throw yourself in my way, knowing I will take you by the throat and choke the life out of you?" 

"No more a fool than you, walking straight toward your demise." 

Dimitri grasps him by the throat. His gauntlets dig into Felix's neck. "I will kill them all," he promises. 

"I will not — let you —" Felix chokes out. He pats at his chest with his left hand, hoping Dimitri will not fully notice the motion on his blind side. He ruffles his shirt, trying to find his dagger. "— Go back in there —" He locates the dagger and takes the hilt in hand. 

Dimitri squeezes his throat. Felix's vision darkens, but he manages to free the dagger from his clothes. 

He thrusts it forward, sinking into Dimitri's shoulder. Dimitri releases him with a grunt, and Felix ends up on the ground once again, gasping the breath back into his lungs. 

Dimitri takes a step back. He touches the blood that leaks from the wound, then wraps his fingers around the dagger's hilt and pulls it free. 

Blood pours freely down his arm and onto the snow. He holds up the dagger. It glints under the light given off by the palace. 

"I know this dagger," he murmurs. 

It had been Glenn's once. Felix brought it with him because his father's men needed all available weapons for the resistance. Instead of robbing a soldier of a dagger, Felix had chosen to bring an heirloom. 

"You —" Felix attempts to speak, but his speech is overtaken by coughing. 

Dimitri looks off to the side. "Yes," he says to no one. Then again: "Yes, I will." 

He walks forward and crouches next to Felix, reaching to touch him. Felix glares as the gauntlet nears his cheek. But Dimitri pulls his hand back at the last moment and carefully places the dagger on the ground beside him instead. 

"Leave," he says, a command spoken from behind the mask of a beast, but delivered softly, almost kindly. "Do not follow me again." 

Dimitri stands and begins walking away, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. 

Felix hurries to his feet, bringing the dagger with him. "Boar!" he yells, his voice hoarse. He begins to follow, but stops upon hearing a gasp. 

He turns. The woman wearing the boar mask approaches him. She looks down at the golden mask on the ground, then back up at Felix. "It's you! What are you doing out here? Is that — is that a dagger?" 

Felix needs to follow Dimitri. He needs to keep him from moving further away, from disappearing yet again. 

But above all else, Felix needs to protect him. 

He goes to the woman, blocking her view of the corpses and the trail of blood on the ground. "It is," Felix answers. "I lost it out here, but as you can see, it has been returned to me." 

He hides it away, concealing it within his clothes once more. 

When it is out of sight, he asks, "Should we head back inside?" He isn't good at being alluring; he has never had any interest in picking up Sylvain's habits. But he tries to make himself seem reasonably interested in her. 

It works. She bends to pick up his mask. "First, you need to put this back on." 

Felix takes it from her and covers his face once again. They go inside together. 

He makes excruciating small talk until he manages to find Sylvain. It only takes a pointed look for Sylvain to pick up on what he needs. Sylvain swoops in between Felix and the woman and begins to flirt. 

Felix uses that distraction to his advantage. 

He looks for Dimitri again. 

* * *

This time, Dimitri is easily found. Felix follows the trail of blood and footprints left in the snow. He tracks Dimitri through a wooded area, to a cave cradled within a rocky hill. Likely, the cave once housed a bear and her cubs. Now, it houses a man who wears the mask of a beast —who sits before a dying fire, watching Felix approach through one eye. 

Felix stands before him, still wearing a mask of his own. They say nothing. 

Felix drops to a knee. He lightly touches Dimitri's mask, just a brushing of his fingers over the dried blood. Then he eases it up over Dimitri's face, allowing it to fall back. It clatters to the ground. 

He looks at Dimitri — the Dimitri beneath the mask. 

He rests his hand against Dimitri's cheek. It's warm — alive. It is not the cheek of a ghost or a corpse. It is not the cheek of a cold-blooded beast. 

Dimitri speaks as though each syllable hurts him. "Felix." 

He touches Felix's mask. His gauntlet clinks against it, a metallic protest. But he doesn't pull away as he had earlier. He guides the mask over Felix's face, then sets it carefully upon the ground. 

"I will hurt you again," he warns with a glance toward Felix's throat. 

Felix asks, "Do you think I expect less?" 

It isn't what he means to say. It comes out wrong, as his words always do, jumbled emotion twisted into something painful. 

So he reaches for Dimitri again. He touches the blood that flows from his shoulder. He traces the edges of the wound as though to say, _I have hurt you too_. 

Dimitri leans into his touch, bowing his head. "You must leave." 

Felix raises his other hand. He hesitates with it poised above Dimitri's head. "I will only say this once. I will not beg." 

Dimitri bows his head lower; his forehead settles against Felix's collarbone. 

Felix slowly allows his hand to touch Dimitri's head. His fingers tangle in his hair. "Come back." 

"I cannot." 

"You have men still loyal to you, waiting for you to return to them. Yet you are out here fighting a war by yourself, one soldier at a time, when you could be commanding an army." 

"I cannot return. Not until it is done." Dimitri pauses, reconsidering his words. "Perhaps not then either." 

Felix huffs out a disgusted breath and drops his hands. "You haven't changed at all. You're still a boar. You'll trample everything in your path until there's nothing left." He gets to his feet, putting distance between them. 

Felix already feels trampled. After all this time searching, he still cannot grasp Dimitri — cannot pull him free of the beast and return him to himself. 

He sits on the ground, facing away from Dimitri, blocking the entrance to the cave with his body. Dimitri will not get past him; Felix will not return without him. 

Felix will not let him go. 

They sit like that for some time, neither of them breaking the silence, until Felix finally has the sense to take out his dagger and cut the bottom of his shirt into strips. He tosses them to Dimitri. "Bandage your wound." 

He listens as Dimitri moves to do so — hears him shed his cloak and gauntlets, then groan as he wraps the strips of shirt across the hole in his shoulder 

When Dimitri is finished and dressed in his cloak once more, he sits near Felix, their backs close though not quite touching. 

Quietly, Dimitri says, "I see you. Underneath. As you see me." 

Felix scowls at the ground and says nothing. 

But he knows it's true. He dresses himself in harsh language whenever he wishes to say something kind. He calls Dimitri _boar_ even when he wants to — _needs_ to — say his name. He offers Dimitri a dagger in his shoulder instead of a hand extended in help. 

Felix wears a mask too. 

"Don't say it," Felix says belatedly. He's trembling. 

Dimitri shifts until their backs are touching. 

"Thank you," Dimitri says. "For trying to find me." 

"I did find you," Felix whispers. 

Dimitri rests his hands on the ground. 

Without looking back, Felix reaches for him — slowly, carefully, until his fingers brush against Dimitri's. 

They remain like that until light touches the sky. 

* * *

Sylvain finds Felix in the morning, curled in on himself, sleeping alone. 

Alarmed, Sylvain explains that he nearly couldn't find him. It snowed overnight, filling in most of his footprints. He asks, "What are you doing out here?" 

When Felix says he was with Dimitri, Sylvain looks out toward Felix's trail. Only one set of footprints are barely visible. Everything else has been covered in snow. 

There is no trace of Dimitri. 

They head back to the inn to rest before they leave, retrieving their weapons along the way. Sylvain prepares to return to Gautier. Felix readies himself for another long journey. 

Felix speaks to the inn's patrons before their departure, asking about what happened at the masquerade. There is no rumor of a man who infiltrated the party to pick off Imperial loyalists. No one speaks of a pile of corpses. 

Later, when he and Sylvain are packing their horses, Felix says, "They are keeping it quiet. Cornelia will not allow herself to seem weak." If the people believed that she could not even keep her own masquerade safe, they would question her leadership. 

"Hey," Sylvain says in lieu of responding to that comment. "Do you want to head back with me? I can follow you to your territory, then head North." 

"No," Felix says firmly. "I'm going to find him." 

He will follow Dimitri again, and again — as many times as necessary. 

He will bring him home. 

Sylvain nods as though he expected that answer. "Then how about I stay for a while longer? I'm good for more than just a date to a masquerade, you know." 

"You need to go back," Felix insists. 

Sylvain sighs as he mounts his horse. "Fine, I'm going." He looks down at Felix, suddenly serious. "Be careful out there. Don't go losing yourself too." 

Sylvain leaves, and Felix is alone once more. 

He looks down at his arm — the arm that Dimitri grasped tight enough to bruise. He sets his fingertips along the sore spots and presses until he feels the ache of a reminder. 

Then he sets out once again. 

He looks for Dimitri. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Carl Phillips' "Chivalry."


End file.
